


Once More Into the Drift

by ch1ps0h0y



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Psycho-Pass
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Mecha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch1ps0h0y/pseuds/ch1ps0h0y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing two partners to kaiju attacks, Kougami didn't think he'd find a third who could salve the trauma they left behind.</p><p>Or, "There's always time for philosophy when giant sea-dwelling monsters are laying waste to civilisation as we know it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More Into the Drift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyrrhics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhics/gifts).



"You've put on a bit of muscle since I last saw you, Kougami."

He hadn't worn a drivesuit in months. The suit hugged his body in several distinctly uncomfortable places. He shifted and plucked at it, brushing away the hands which fussed over him. It wasn't meant to be loose-fitting, but had it really been this restricting the last time he'd worn one?

"Still remember everything you've learned?" Someone passed him a part of his armour and he put it on mechanically, fingers fumbling only slightly as he fastened it into place. "The other man you're pairing with hasn't drifted before, so we're counting on you to teach him quickly."

"Yes, sir," he muttered. Gino shot him a look and bit back further comment as Kougami fastened his chest plate and did a few warm-up stretches. Good. The longer he wore the suit, the more he felt his body accustom itself to its fit. In no time at all it would begin to feel like a second skin again.

He straightened, inhaled and exhaled slowly. It was time.

A worker fixed the neural spines to their backs and he heard them click into place. Taking his helmet from Gino, the two of them left the drivesuit room and headed to the dock. His partner was already waiting for him there, dressed in the same dark suit as Kougami was, making their hair appear even more shockingly white in contrast.

Gino parted ways to head to the control room while Kougami approached his partner.

"Ready?" he asked them. They offered him a small smile in response, eyes glittering. Yes, those eyes said. Kougami's smile took on an edge of its own, and together they stepped into the Jaeger's Conn-Pod.

 

The Tokyo Shatterdome was never not busy. It was the first line of defence for the eastern continent, thus it was immensely important for the Jaegers to be in peak condition in case they had to immediately be sent out against a kaiju. Scores of engineers and maintenance crews were constantly on rotation on the floor servicing the giant robotic constructs that were so vital in the fight against the kaiju.

Kougami had still been a trainee pilot when he participated in his first kaiju attack. It had been completely by accident, time and circumstance not allowing him to swap out for a more experienced pilot. His senior, Tomomi Masaoka - Gino's father - had decided on the spot to take the Jaeger out with the fresh Kougami as his drift partner. Caught up in the heat of the moment, Kougami had not thought to say no.

The kaiju was as monstrous as the tales of them had led him to believe. Together, he and the older man had charged into the fight head-on against the alien beast. Kougami could never forget the powerfully invigorating feeling of smashing the robot's mighty fist against the monster's head and seeing it crumple backwards into the sea. He had whooped, glorying in the moment and cheering the kaiju's downfall. Even Masaoka had smiled and let him have the moment before they began to turn back to base.

Neither of them expected the felled monster to rise again from the sea and pierce the pod with its sharp claws.

Kougami remembered the terror of seeing the kaiju's claws jutting between them through the back of the pod. A metre to either side and one or both of them would have been skewered. Sparks from broken couplings and flashing red warning signs from the consoles added to the chaos and panic Kougami felt as the beast tried to rend the metal apart.

A quick-thinking move by Masaoka knocked the kaiju back down permanently before any more damage could be done. But the Jaeger was in need of urgent repairs. Somehow they managed to stagger back to the Shatterdome, and it was only when they were safely there that Kougami noticed his training partner's arm was gone. A bleeding stump was all that remained, yet he couldn't recall feeling any indication of his partner's pain through the drift. He'd been too scared, too pumped with adrenaline.

Masaoka had been retired as a ranger. You couldn't pilot a Jaeger with only one arm. Kougami had recovered from the ordeal and gone on to complete his training, finding a new partner in someone called Sasayama Mitsuru. They were all right as far as partners went, but the thrill of taking down kaiju had not worn off for Sasayama as it had for him. It had been hard forcing a smile for them the first time they had taken down one of the kaiju together.

The route back to Kougami's room went past the combat area where trainees sparred against each other. It doubled as a place to hone martial skills as well as a means to find a drift partner. Sometimes Kougami would pause and watch them fight; other times he went by without a glance. Currently, the trainees were lined up in two neat rows and a roll call was being taken.

"Makishima Shougo?"

No response. That was unusual. Kougami backtracked and peered into the room. The small group of trainees glanced amongst themselves but still no response was forthcoming. Their instructor scowled and made a note on their clipboard.

"Absent without leave. Again," they muttered.

Kougami left silently as the roll call continued, surprised that anyone would skip out on such a class without notice.

Later at the mess hall, as he was searching for a vacant spot to set down his tray and eat, he spotted a man ensconced unobtrusively in the corner with his nose deep in a book. Contrary to their hair colour - almost pure white - they did not appear old at all. In fact they seemed close to Kougami's age.

He sat down at the next table over, watching them over the rim of his soup bowl. They paid no attention whatsoever to the comings and goings of those around them, nor did they seem aware that they were being stared at. Their entire world was encapsulated by the contents of their novel, which had a well-thumbed look about it going by the worn corners and greyed edges.

Kougami was trying to read the title from where he was when the training marshal from earlier came marching in. The man's hard eyes scanned the mess hall, head rotating on his neck like a robot. Pilots and trainees edged around his unmoving bulk, a few shooting the man curious stares of their own. Apparently not finding what he was looking for, the man eventually hrmphed, turned on his heel, and left.

When Kougami looked back to where the white haired man had been sitting, he saw only an empty table.

It turned out that he wasn't the only person who had found the empty helicopter deck a quiet place to retreat to. Kougami stumbled (almost literally) into the white-haired man again when he went outside for an after-dinner smoke. They were seated with their back to the Shatterdome wall, one knee up to create an impromptu book stand. A small book light helped illuminate the pages they were reading, creating a dim pool of paleness under the dark sky.

"Evening," he grunted at them.

"Good evening," they murmured in return, bringing their other leg up to let him pass. Kougami strode further down to where the smoke wouldn't bother the reading man and lit up a cigarette.

Ten minutes passed in silence. Nothing but the swell of the tide and the creak of metal disturbed either of their pastimes. As Kougami's eyes adapted to the dark, stars began appearing on the midnight canvas above him.

"Enjoying the view?"

Kougami turned in surprise. The man had finished his book - or had decided to put it down - and was now gazing at him. The light was still on, but it only lit up the bottom half of their face. He blew out his last lungful of smoke and ground the smouldering butt out under heel.

"It's the same as it's ever been," he replied. "Just more broken."

They smiled in an odd way, thoughtful and admiring, intrigued but distant. "Have you been a pilot long?"

Kougami thought about the question. Some days felt like a stretch while others flew by on surges of adrenaline. He hadn't tried to count the days until tonight. "Three years," he answered finally.

The other man hummed, rubbing their thumb idly along the edge of their novel. Kougami squinted and managed to catch its name in the dim light. "War of the Worlds?" he asked sceptically.

The man's thumb stopped. "Do you know it?"

Kougami nodded and could have sworn he saw something change in them. Something about their manner, or posture.

"Don't you think our situation echoes that portrayed in Wells' novel?" they asked him. "An invasion by an alien species whose motives we are unaware of and they have no way of communicating to us. We assume their presence to be an invasion, their attacks made with hostile intent. They send their soldiers against mankind and we respond in turn, escalating the war until it resembles...this." They gestured expansively to the torn skyline of a listing Tokyo. "Small pockets of resistance scattered across the world. It's only a matter of time before this operation becomes unsustainable, and then what? The kaiju pick us off at leisure?"

"Gee, you're a ray of sunshine," Kougami commented.

"But it's true, yes? They've already begun work on a wall to keep them out permanently." The man got to his feet, turning off the light, pocketing the paperback. "They'll decommission this place in a few years."

"Is that why you don't attend combat classes?" Kougami asked without thinking. The other had been about to leave, but they halted at his question and glanced back.

"No," they said after a moment. And then they walked away.

 

There was blood on the walls and on the mangled remains of the left-hand harness. The readouts flashed a vivid red warning and several alarms blaring at Kougami as he stared in disbelief at the crumpled left-hand side of their Jaeger. With the pod glowing a deep red, he wasn't sure where the remains of his partner began and where they blended in. He strained against his own harness desperately, screaming, while panicked voices shouted in his ears. There was no way this was happening to him again. No way.

_"Left-- has gone, si- C- reach-- Kougami- hear me?!"_

Despite the warnings not to, despite all his training telling him it was impossible to pilot a Jaeger solo, Kougami wrenched the still-functioning right arm up as the giant robot was buffeted by the half-dead kaiju's thrashing. Metal groaned and the Jaeger tilted dangerously. Kougami roared something inarticulate as he sent the arm swinging upwards. The fist made solid contact with the kaiju's chin and it reeled back. The fist came down on top of its skull and the monster squealed in its death throes as it collapsed into the sea.

"It's...dead..." he gasped, before his eyes rolled up and he slumped in the harness, unconscious.

Kougami inhaled sharply and his eyes flew open. His room was dim, the digital display on his clock searing past his tired, watery eyes to tell him the time was sometime after six a.m.

He flung the sheets off and staggered to the sink in his bunker, wrenching the tap open and splashing his face with the freezing cold water which came out.

First Masaoka, and now Sasayama. Kougami had lost two partners to kaiju in the space of a year. It hadn't been as crushing to say farewell to his first partner - Masaoka was still alive and living happily, he'd heard, living with his son. But Sasayama... Well, Sasayama...

He drove his fist into the steel wall of his bunker, water dripping from the ends of his short hair. Yet the pain from his aching, bleeding knuckles wasn't enough to blot out the mental anguish, the fear, the last moments of utter panic as the kaiju's tail had smashed into the side of their Jaeger and completely crushed the solid steel as if it had been aluminium. At least Sasayama's death had been quick. The connection had broken as cleanly as a cord snapping. Kougami was sure his former partner hadn't suffered. The shattered pieces of his mental state clung to that thought like a wolf with its teeth in its prey.

But, he was once again without a partner.

Kougami knew it wouldn't be nearly as easy to find a replacement this time. Once was a tragedy, but twice? People started whispering things behind your back then, saying bad luck followed you. Kougami didn't mind what was said so much as the way people's eyes followed him and the way gazes averted when he turned to meet them. Did those who glared at him think his stony face meant he went unaffected by his partners' losses?

A drink and a cigarette did wonders in such situations. He went outside and stared at the ruined remains of their city while the sun rose, noting a skyscraper which had been flattened by a kaiju corpse last night. He could see movement around the spot as scavengers hauled away the bones, to make into charms or grind into powder.

Soft footsteps echoed behind him, but he didn't bother turning to see who it was. The newcomer leant on the railing beside him, the wind from the sea curling through their white hair.

"Skipping again?" Kougami asked. His voice held no disapproval or much inflection really. "They'll dismiss you at this rate."

"I never wanted to be here to begin with," they said, gazing at the same ruined spot that Kougami was. They indicated the scavengers with their chin. "Look at us: we've become rats feeding off the corpses left behind by larger lifeforms. The kaiju have superseded us as top predator. What do you think will happen when we lack the means to fight back at all?"

"Are you always this cynical?" Kougami exhaled and smoke wafted back towards his face, making him wrinkle his nose. "The kaiju came. We adapted. That's all."

"So you don't think there's room for such philosophy in this apocalyptic era?" they asked curiously. Their light golden eyes watched him keenly while their face remained largely impassive.

"I didn't say that." He took another drag on his cigarette. The glowing ashes from its end fell and were extinguished by the cresting waves. Tendrils of grey filtered past his lips as he continued, flicking his stub after the ashes. "But if you really want my opinion, I don't think this" - he gestured around them - "is like Wells' War of the Worlds at all."

"Oh? Then what is it?"

Kougami snorted and popped his beer can open with a hiss. He took a long draught and scowled at the distant shore. "It's a goddamn mecha movie," he growled, before turning on his heel and striding back inside, not seeing the look of surprise and then amusement which flitted across the other man's face.

 

"Makishima Shougo!"

Dinner at the mess hall once again. Chatter died and all heads turned towards the combat instructor, standing framed in the doorway with legs planted firmly apart. His bulk blocked the passage and prevented escape for the man his finger was pointing squarely at.

Said man laid his book down and did a good job of looking surprised at having been singled out. At least, Kougami assumed it was an act.

The instructor's steps echoed dully on the floor as he stomped towards his victim. He easily towered over the seated man. "You have repeatedly failed to appear at your designated combat training sessions! You'd better have a damn good reason for why I shouldn't throw you out on your white ass, soldier!" Spotting the book, the instructor frowned at the title and then laughed derisively. "Reading about fictional aliens isn't going to save you from the kaiju, Makishima. Now on your feet before I haul you up!"

Makishima took his time standing and pocketing his novel. It was a deliberate nose-thumb at his superior's authority, something Kougami could not help but smirk at. The waiting officer, however, obviously found it insulting. They reached out to grab Makishima's arm, intending to tow the white-haired man out forcefully. But before they could so much as touch him, Makishima acted quicker than anyone he had ever seen, twisting aside and somehow yanking the instructor off-balance at the same time. The end result was the man face-flat against the table, having his arm nearly bent backwards by the pressure being placed on the elbow.

Makishima held him there for a few seconds before releasing him. The larger man staggered back, face red from both fury and loss of dignity, while Makishima straightened his clothes.

"Sorry, sir. Habit." Makishima's smile was a parody of sincerity. The man puffed himself up indignantly.

"You will collect your possessions, Makishima Shougo. Then you will hand in your uniform to Marshal Kasei, and if I see even one white hair left tomorrow morning--"

"I'll send my condolences if you choke on it," Makishima interjected, bowing to hide the smirk that he flashed Kougami's way. Before the man could gather his wits for a response, Makishima made his brisk exit and disappeared in the wake of shocked murmurs.

Kougami slipped out as well once some semblance of normality returned to the mess hall. He didn't know where Makishima's room was, but he knew where the man most likely would head. Outside on the deck, his suspicions were vindicated.

Makishima had been expecting him, judging by the way he leaned against the guard rail and the serene curve which spread across his lips upon sighting Kougami. Kougami, however, didn't give him time to utter one of his worldly comments, jumping in with the first verbal jab.

"Don't, say, a word," he grated, grabbing a fistful of the other man's shirt. Another man would have dared not after seeing the display in the mess hall, but Kougami knew better. 'Habit' his ass. "Don't give me one of your ridiculous comments about it being pointless, or the way the world's going or some shit! I know that's not why you pulled that crap back there so why the hell did you do it?!"

"I told you I didn't want to be here," Makishima murmured, returning his fury with expected aloofness. "Why are you so angry? We barely know each other."

Kougami gritted his teeth and thrust the white-haired man back. They fell back against the railing as he took a few strides away from them, shook off his jacket and tossed it aside, leaving him in a white singlet. Planting his feet a steady distance apart, he turned to face the other man again with a glare.

"If you win three bouts out of five against me, I'll walk away and let you go," Kougami stated, taking up a stance. "But if you don't, then you're going to stop being a fatalistic asshole and live your goddamn life."

"Fatalistic?" Makishima put aside his book with a great deal more care than Kougami had his jacket. He flexed and eased the muscles in his arms, legs, and neck, before similarly adopting a ready stance. The wind blew strands of hair past his face, but he didn't seem to notice. "You're mistaken," Makishima continued, voice soft like silk yet sharp as the edge of a knife. "A fatalist sees the end to every corner. What I am is a realist, and a realist acknowledges the existence of the end without needing to see the corner."

"Really?" Kougami's grin was distinctly predatory. "Then I guess that makes me one too."

 

Makishima didn't get dismissed. Kougami, in spite of his trauma, didn't either. When he made his appearance in the head marshal's office on Makishima's heels and declared he had found a new partner, the instructor - who had been waiting for Makishima and been surprised to see them both appear - laughed in his face. Surprisingly, Marshall Kasei hadn't. She had simply stared at the pair of them evenly over the top of her spectacles for a time before acknowledging the change with a brisk hand wave. They left exchanging smirks, followed by the splutters of the instructor.

Kougami was pulled temporarily from active duty in order to train with his new prospective partner. There wasn't much to teach; Makishima already had a firm background in the same martial art that Kougami practised. He only had to brush up on the more theoretical topics. Then there was the final exam and a slew of simulator tests to prepare him for the experience of piloting a real Jaeger.

Finally, the time came when they were fitted into their drive suits, handed their helmets, and were able to step inside a Jaeger together for the first time. Kougami experienced a wave of nostalgia upon stepping over the threshold and had to pause for a moment to let the moment sink in properly, blocking his new partner's way.

"Don't start crying on me," Makishima joked as he pushed Kougami aside.

The two harnesses hung ready, just as he remembered. After five months off active duty, the sight of them stirred a familiar feeling of anticipation in his belly and a skip in his heartbeat. Kougami took the right-hand harness without a second thought, body used to the position from his time with Sasayama. His new partner took the left-hand one without complaint, stepping on to the footplates carefully and holding themselves still while the machinery attached itself to their suit. Holographic readouts filtered by in front of the pair, which Kougami scanned with the familiarity of a pilot long used to reading them. His fingers danced across the readouts confirming various routines.

"Evening, gentlemen."

"Evening, Choe." Kougami grinned, fingers not once pausing in their work. "Just you today? Where's Shion?"

"Rescuing Miss Tsunemori from the clutches of our eccentric scientist." There was a chuckle. "His fingers did a little wayward wandering."

Kougami snickered and Shougo leaned forward as much as the harness would allow. "I hope she didn't leave Kouzaburou too traumatised."

"Let's just say he won't be looking a scalpel the same way ever again."

Their mutual chuckling was interrupted by a brisker, more authoritative voice. "If you're done laughing..."

Choe coughed. "Systems are online. Ready for the drop, Ginoza-san."

With a hiss, the door slid shut on the capsule. Kougami's heart leapt into his throat as the chamber was released from its moorings and plummeted down vertical railings to the waiting body. He looked to the man in the other harness and saw no panic or apprehension from them. If anything, they looked eager. The helmets they both wore reflected the screens in front of them, but Kougami could still see the sharp smile they flashed him.

The chamber slowed the last few metres before settling into place with a decisive clunk, machinery whirring to lock the head into place. More readouts flickered by; Kougami flicked a few switches in confirmation and heard Gino's voice cut in again over the automated messages and background chatter from Choe.

"Everything good on your end, Kougami?"

Kougami did a quick onceover. "All clear, Gino. We're ready for the handshake."

"Initialising neural link sequence in 10...9..."

His eyes glittered as he turned his head towards his partner. "Ready?"

The white-haired man shared the same gleam in his eyes as they nodded. "Will you walk into my parlour?" he said with a laugh to Kougami.

"That's my line." Further conversation was unnecessary, because the next moment they both then fell into the drift.


End file.
